Fire in the Stars
by venomRED
Summary: Hounded by the Reapers and Cerberus at every turn, Commander Shepard must race against time to unite the different races of the galaxy against a common enemy if they have any hope of surviving the brutal onslaught of a millennia-old foe. But with the stakes for survival this high, some will stop at nothing to see him fail. (Rated M for Language/Violence/Adult Content)
1. Foreword

_**Fire in the Stars  
**_**Foreword**

Hello again, dear readers! I want to thank each of you for being a part of this third and final chapter in my Mass Effect retelling, and I'm so excited to be able to share it with you. I've been looking forward to writing Fire in the Stars for a long time now, as it's without a doubt how I would have designed the plot of Mass Effect 3. A few things are the same, but most are quite different, and I hope you all enjoy reading how it should have ended, according to me at least.

For any new readers who have stumbled upon this page, Fire in the Stars is part three of my series that begins with The Darkest Night; so start there or you'll likely be terribly confused! I'll be taking a few days to read back through TDN and FWAM in their entirety, and break down my massive plot outline into chapters, and then we'll get to work!

Thanks again for coming back for this third installment, here's hoping it's everything you've waited for. I know it will be for me.

~Tom


	2. Prologue: In the Shadows of an Empire

_**Fire in the Stars  
**_**Prologue: In the Shadows of an Empire**

* * *

Toreval stood from the hunched-over position he'd taken in front of the workbench, the wire-frame diagram hovering above the table's surface dimming slightly as he pulled his attention away from it. Though he tried to keep them from it, his eyes once more sought out the viewport across the room, and he let out a deep breath at seeing merely the empty hallway outside this room, though the action did not calm him. As if in response to his attempts to ease his mind, a metal pipe fell somewhere in the distance, its hollow and lonely clanging to the floor only accentuating the emptiness of this once-thriving place.

Toreval finally tore his gaze from the viewport, crossing the room to the comm terminal and beginning the encryption sequence that would carefully and deliberately code their message to anyone who would listen; anyone who _could_ listen. Though the room was new to him, and had far more up-to-date technology than his main laboratory on Ilos, the console functioned similarly, and he was able to broadcast the signal discreetly. It warned of the Reapers, of chaos, of death...of the end of an empire. His message sent, Toreval turned away from the comm terminal, and back to the large, imposing main command console for this station. They had called it the Citadel, though they hadn't been the ones to create it, and they'd made it the central hub of their entire empire. It's silhouette had adorned the empire's crest, and they'd even manipulated the development of language on the worlds of some promising yet primitive species to include its name. He shook his head as he stared down into its dark interface. They had put so much faith in technology they'd merely stumbled upon, and that faith had been their undoing.

They hadn't been ready, not by a long shot. Toreval squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled with painful clarity the Reapers' first attack. They had come all at once, using the Citadel as an entry point and screaming across their galactic empire like banshees, tearing a bloody path through their entire civilization. High Command had acted quickly to defend critical worlds, but no speed would have been fast enough, and one by one they began to fall. Military gambits had ended in tragedy, communications were almost completely blacked out, and traitors within the ranks had brought the once-great Prothean empire to its knees. Toreval had been a lead researcher at the Sel Tras archive, overseeing the development of a primitive species on Sel Vod, the neighboring planet, when the Reapers had come. He'd quickly been transferred to the Ilos lab, to work on a counter-measure for the Reapers, any way to destroy the machines that had come to end them all.

He'd watched the vids in the comm bursts, had seen his own world burning under the Reaper assault. It had pushed him, and he'd finished the design, a device to use the Reapers' own mass relay signals against them, reversing the polarity and stopping them from using their own transit devices. It was brilliant, they'd all thought so, but when he'd presented it to High Command, they had demanded he find a way to kill the Reapers, not simply waylay them. They hadn't even taken his files...

Toreval shook his head, pushing away the pain of that memory just as he'd pushed away the harsh realities of everything they'd seen since awakening from the stasis pods just a few short days ago. Their species obliterated, their empire destroyed, the galaxy silent, and with just the twelve of them left of their thousands-strong research team to tell the tale. They were people out of time, walking on the surfaces of a galaxy that would not be ready for their kind again for tens of thousands of years. They had taken what data they could and left Ilos, using the very conduit they'd been researching to come here, to this place, the eye of the devastating storm that had rendered them extinct.

Hesitantly, Toreval reached out, tapping the controls on the console that hadn't been used in hundreds of years. He had studied the system logs kept in these machines over the past couple days, and had come to understand how the Reapers were able to take over the Citadel. It was an oversight that the Protheans, in their haste to acquire something new and wondrous, had failed to rectify over the millennia they'd spent using it as the seat of their empire. A tiny crack in the wall, and it had brought the whole thing crumbling down. Toreval's hands flew in a controlled frenzy, deleting code here, modifying it there, calling new run-times throughout the code that would derail the plan the Reapers had used before, and could just as devastatingly use again.

Once he was sure his change had been accepted, he reached to the pouch at the small of his back, removing the data crystal there, and moved forward to connect it to the terminal, but hesitated at the last moment. His hand hung there in the balance, holding in its grip thousands of years of research, history, culture...everything that was the Prothean race. The Reapers had used the records within this station, perhaps even this very console, to exterminate his people; was he so certain that his work would stop them from using the Citadel again? And if so...he would have delivered to them the very soul of his people. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, crossing back over to the comm terminal and establishing a connection to his old research terminal on Sel Tras. With the Reapers gone from the galaxy, the connection was instantaneous, and he began the file transfer of selective pieces of information. He would spread them throughout the galaxy, a trail of information, so that someday some species could know of his kind, and the fate that befell them.

He pulled up his real-time monitoring devices from Sel Vod as the data transfer continued, their recordings not having been watched in centuries, and peered through their eyes into the surface of the primitive world below. His primary satellite had been following a group of the primitive species as they'd lived out their lives. It was night now, and they huddled around a burning fire, their hands held out for warmth. They wore animal pelts, and carried crude spears to protect themselves. Toreval smiled weakly, reaching out to touch the screen affectionately. He had watched over and cared for these creatures, and now they were adapting, evolving, just as he'd hoped they would. He shook his head slightly as he watched this primitive race, still concerned with the beasts that lurk in the night, completely unaware of the massive genocide that had happened all around them in space. With one last fond look for the creatures, he shut down the monitoring program, recalling all of the devices back to the Sel Tras archive.

"Toreval?" the call came from the doorway, and he started, turning quickly to meet Vrek's tired face. "Is it done?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I have altered the code, it should stop...all of this...happening again."

"Good," the other prothean said. He paused uncomfortably for a moment before speaking again. "The...scouting party came back. I am afraid they did not bring good news."

Toreval nodded in understanding, then chuckled softly. "The most advanced species in the entire galaxy, and its brightest minds are destined to die of simple starvation." He looked over to meet Vrek's eyes. "I could choke on the irony."

"Yes," Vrek replied, looking down the hall for a moment. "it would be a cruel end. Fortunately, Krethhis has a more...dignified option, for those who choose it."

"What do you mean?"

Vrek motioned for Toreval to follow him, and he did so, the two protheans walking in silence down the long hall, and out into a large central chamber. This had been the seat of Prothean High Command, here in the eye of the Citadel, and the large pane viewport behind their seats looked out into the nebula in which the station lay nestled. The normally peaceful vista was spoiled now by the corpses of thousands of ships scattered the space outside the Citadel. Toreval tore his eyes away from the floating graveyard, and fixated on the group of scientists in the middle of the chamber. He nodded to them in greeting as he and Vrek approached, and Krethhis turned to them as they arrived.

"I have developed a poison from my supplies on Ilos," he said quietly. "It kills quickly, and with no pain. Far better than starvation. At least, that is what we have decided." Around their circle, the rest of them nodded. Finally, when all gazes fell upon him, Toreval stared at the syringe in Krethhis' hand for a long moment before nodding as well. They all sat down, each with a space of the floor to themselves, taking their final moments to reflect upon their lives. Toreval did not reflect, he did not mourn, he simply stared back out into the chaos outside the Citadel and hoped. He hoped that what he had done here would be enough. He hoped they would find his plans and notes, kept secret out on Sel Tras, he hoped he'd given the next generation a fighting chance.

Krethhis came around to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he stuck the needle into Toreval's arm. He met the doctor's eyes with a nod of thanks, which the other prothean reciprocated, then brought his gaze back to the wreckage just as High Command's flagship, rent asunder by the lead Reaper in the final battle here, slid into view. Anger welled within him, and he hoped again. Not for knowledge, or enlightenment for the lesser species. Not for the peaceful deaths of his colleagues, the bodies of whom he could now begin to hear slump to the floor behind him. Rage raced through him, as did the poison, and as the edges of his vision began to go black, he focused his last remaining moments of consciousness onto the flagship, and he hoped as his body began to tumble over in death.

He hoped that the next time, would be the last time for the Reapers.


	3. Who We Used to Be

*****Author's Note***  
**Alrighty, here we are! I've gotten a couple of messages asking this since I hadn't  
left an author's note on the Prologue, so I'll answer it here. The Protheans in the prologue  
were the last remnants of the Prothean cycle. There were a dozen or so Prothean scientists  
in stasis on Ilos that survived (out of the thousands that were put into stasis) and were  
awakened after the Reapers left the galaxy. Once they realized what had happened, they  
used the Conduit to the Citadel, changed the Reaper backdoor commands in the Citadel, then  
died, most likely of starvation. Their meddling is what caused the Reapers to need to send Sovereign  
ahead of them in our cycle, since they couldn't all just relay into the Citadel like they did during the  
Prothean cycle. That's all the canon lore has to say about them, but they'll be a little more integral  
to my re-telling. So you can effectively think of the Prologue as a "50,000 years ago..." chapter.

Ok, with that out of the way, let's get into the meat of the story here. I'm happy to see so many  
of you back and ready to go, and so I'm pleased to present to you _Fire in the Stars_. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Who We Used to Be**

"You're certain about this?" he asked again, just to be sure.

She folded her arms across her chest, turning her head to look out the viewport at the half-dozen or so Alliance workmen replacing large metal panels on the anterior section of the ship. The retrofit was proceeding quickly, almost too quickly if she were honest about her feelings on the matter. It seemed every day that some old favorite part of hers was being removed from the Normandy, to make way for something a bit more high-tech. After a long moment, she turned back to the man.

"Yes," she said with no small amount of regret. "I am." She let her gaze flicker past his clean-cut blue uniform and out into the Mess, where even now more workmen removed the large table they'd gathered around multiple times, for reasons both good and bad.

_"Late night," he calls out, crossing to take a seat across from her. It's been five hours of non-stop paperwork, and the cup of coffee she's nursing has just enough steam wafting up from it to keep her eyes open as the waves of heat lap against her eyelids._

_"Hmm?" she calls back, slowly lifting her head to see him already taking the seat. "Oh, Commander," she corrects herself, cursing inside her head. She tries to straighten her back, to project poise and control, but a smile crawls across his face, and eventually she slumps forward again. "Yes, it most certainly is." She takes a long sip of her coffee, shaking her head as she studies him. "How do you do it, Shepard? How do you just keep going, and going, never stopping for yourself, never feeling the weight of it all..." she trails off. Horizon had been...eye opening...for them all. She had seen things down there that she doubted now she could ever forget._

_"I feel the weight," he says quietly, and she raises her eyes back up from where they had rested in thought to regard him once more. "The pain of losing friends, of not being able to save everyone, of how important our mission is...it can burn inside you, like a white-hot piece of steel." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down into the dark metallic surface of the table. She can tell just by looking at him that he's time travelling, seeing back into the past with a clarity only time can provide. "You can't stop feeling it," he continues, "but you can temper it."_

_"How?" she asks quietly, genuinely transfixed._

_His eyes rise to meet her, and his confident smile quickly slides into place once more. "By remembering why we fight, who we're fighting for. Trillions of people of every species, all across the galaxy; their lives are in our hands. What we do ensures their survival, or destruction. That's enough to motivate me to look past the heat, stare through the fire." He leans forward again, folding his arms on the table. "Every person in this galaxy has something worth enough to them that they'd fight forever to see it kept safe. Sometimes we know exactly what those things are; sometimes we only find out with time." He pauses for a moment before standing up once more. "But you're nothing shy of a genius, Miranda; I'm sure you'll figure out what you're fighting for. Hell, maybe you already know."_

_She returns his smile with a weak one of her own. "Thanks, Shepard," she replies quietly. He nods to her warmly, and disappears into the lift. She can see the deck indicator decreasing towards 4; the lift descending ever closer towards what_ he_ fights for..._

The workmen at last uprooted the table from its bolted-down position, dispelling the ghost of her former self sitting wearily above its surface, and she tore her gaze away, transfixing them yet again on the man in blue. "All of the crew have been taken care of?"

The man nodded, the white hair on his face and peeking out from under his cap belying his age even despite the sharpness of his eyes. "They have. They'll all be reassigned here, together."

"Under whose authority?" Miranda probed not-so-gently.

It was Admiral Hackett's turn to look out the viewport in thought. After a long moment, he spoke. "I'm not sure yet." His gaze pulled away, back to meet her own. "The batarians will want blood for what happened in the Bahak system, but there's just enough of a discrepancy in the evidence to keep Shepard safe."

"You don't sound entirely sure of that, Admiral," she said quietly.

He shook his head slightly. "I wish I could be, but I'm just one voice." His eyes seemed to look through her, to some far-off place, before they snapped back into focus. "Either way, the Normandy and her crew will be in good hands, I can assure you." He extended his hand to her, and she took it, shaking it firmly before he turned to leave.

A long quiet moment passed after the doors had quietly slid closed behind him, and when she thought she was in the clear, Miranda called out. "EDI?"

"_Greetings, Ms. Lawson, how may I be of assistance?" _EDI's voice filtered through the air, and Miranda couldn't help but let a smile slip onto her face. The AI had become very adept at disguising both its runtimes within the ship's systems, as well as it's human interface systems, as a typical VI. The smile quickly faded, however, when she began the conversation she'd hoped never to have.

"I'm leaving the ship, EDI, do you have the information pulled from the Cerberus networks?"

"_That information has been downloaded into your personal omni-tool on a secure channel," _the AI replied, maintaining the facade. _"I..."_ it paused for a moment, "_wish you well on your travels. It is a privilege to serve."_

Tears welled in the corners of Miranda's eyes, and were the situation not so painful, so personal, she might have laughed. Was she really getting this upset over leaving this ship? An AI? Perhaps it wasn't so much the act of leaving, but the loss of what the Normandy and EDI had stood for; safety, camaraderie, hope. "I'll miss you too, EDI" she whispered into the air, before grabbing her bag and stepping out of her former quarters. She crossed to the lift, nodding encouragingly to all the former Cerberus crew, now wearing Alliance blues. Some saluted her, others merely nodded, and when the doors to the lift slid shut she closed her eyes, pushing away the pain of what she knew she had to do.

The lift opened, and Miranda stepped out into the CIC. Everywhere steel beams and wiring hung loose or disconnected, the revamp of the ship now in full swing. Her eyes were drawn to the doorway of the Armory, and her heart stung inside her chest. She deviated from her path, crossing over to rest a hand on it longingly. The cool metal pressed against her skin, and she let herself feel the pain of losing Jacob all over again, the rage at the Illusive Man's indifference, the comfort that the crew had shown her in the days afterward.

"He was a good guy," the voice came from behind her, and her eyes snapped open as she turned her head in surprise. Joker stood there, a datapad in hand, and she offered him a weak smile.

"Yea," she said quietly. "He never gave up on me, no matter how many times it cost him."

The pilot nodded knowingly. A long moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. "I, uh, heard you were leaving the Normandy."

"Yes," she said, pushing the pain away again. "I had knowledge of quite a few of Cerberus' secret projects divisions; my leaving won't be taken lightly. I've got to go underground for awhile." She paused, then added, "Though it's hard to think of anywhere that's safe from Cerberus right now."

"Yea, I know how that feels," he said with a short laugh. His eyes looked downward, and then he seemed to suddenly notice he was holding three small plastic tubes in his hands. "Oh hey, I've got to get back." She nodded and he began to walk away, his gait noticeably improved from the first time they'd met, then stopped and turned back around. "And um...here's hoping this isn't the last time you're walking the deck, yea?" The smile that accompanied his words was a genuine one, and she returned it in kind. He nodded, then turned back to the lift and disappeared from sight.

Miranda took one last look around the CIC, then walked up the long hallway and into the airlock. When the outer hull door opened, a crisp wind blew her hair back and whipped it around her face. She stepped hesitantly out onto the catwalk, gazing across at the Seattle/Vancouver megacity beyond. She began to walk down and away from the ship, then turned her head to take one last look at the ship that had, quite literally, changed her life completely. It hung by magnetized clamps in the morning twilight, silhouetted against the rapidly fading star-speckled space that was her home. In an instant, dawn arrived, its light skating across the metal sheen of the ship, and announcing it to the world as she watched. _A proper send-off indeed, she never disappoints_, Miranda thought with a smile, then turned and walked further into the bustling city below.

* * *

The soft morning light spilled in through the large windows of the living area, illuminating the majority of the small apartment in a subdued, pale yellow glow. The light reached out, its motion faster than the eye could perceive yet somehow seeming to take its time, washing quietly over every surface. It stretched across the living area, blanketed the kitchen, and crept through the small crack in an otherwise-closed door. As its source continued to rise slowly over the horizon, the light pressed ever-onward into the darkness beyond the doorway, a single ray of light sliding further and further into the darkened room.

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy lay quietly on her side, watching the slim line of light reach silently into the room she shared with John. _The room she shared with John_, the thought drifted across her mind, and she smiled behind her visor. She turned gently to look over her shoulder at his sleeping form. He had been up late again last night, speaking with Kaidan about all that had happened in their time apart. For a brief moment in time, it had been as if the SR-1's destruction had never happened, the three of them sitting around the table laughing and sharing each other's events. But as with all happy moments, it seemed to end all too quickly, Kaidan disappearing into the night and the two of them retiring to the bedroom. She didn't need as much sleep as humans did, and so often times she simply lay awake like this, staring out into the darkness of the room and listening to the rise and fall of his steady breathing behind her.

In some ways, being blocked from the extranet and all comms traffic was oddly refreshing. She had been in blackout situations before, but up until now they had all involved combat and her imminent death. This new idea of just relaxing was one she could definitely get used to. _Some day_, she thought as she continued to watch the small bar of light grow. _When the Reapers are gone, and the galaxy no longer needs Commander Shepard...some day life will calm down_. A frown began to make its way across her face then. Would the galaxy ever truly have no more to ask of John? Could it even get on anymore without him? The thought made her uncomfortable, and she rose quietly from the bed. With one more loving glance for his sleeping form, she stepped out of the bedroom and into the living quarters, crossing to the large panel windows that looked out over the city.

Vega had told her about the city one morning while John had been asked away to speak with Admiral Hackett. The two separate cities comprising it, Seattle and Vancouver, had both eventually grown so large that they began to overlap. This had been around the time that the Systems Alliance was being formed, and the cities had decided to become a beacon of cooperation to the fledgling organization, joining resources, governments, and people to become Earth's first megacity. The Alliance had repaid this symbolism by placing one of their major headquarters buildings within the megacity, and the rest was history. She looked out to the east, the glowing yellow star Sol rising over the planet's horizon, and her heart tightened. It was a beautiful sight, regardless of which planet she tread upon while watching it happen, and it made her long for Rannoch all the more.

The old conflict welled within her once more: her love for John and her love for her people. Desperately she hoped they could be one and the same, but he was needed by the entire galaxy, not just her or her people. Besides, they hadn't shown him the warmest treatment when last he helped them. Her eyes drew away from the sunrise, and she wrapped her arms around herself in thought. Rael had tried to contact her numerous times since the Alarei, and she'd done her best to ignore and not think about him. John had a plan, he always did, but if it cost him the love of her people...well, it was a price she wished he didn't have to pay. She thought of the distance they'd come in just the past few months; she'd been pulled out of the greatest pain she'd ever experienced by his sudden reappearance in her life, and she done her damnedest to make sure she didn't repeat the same mistakes of the past. He knew how she felt, and what's more, he felt it too. That thought alone pushed away the fear and the doubt, and she happily allowed it to do so.

She heard him before he arrived, and smiled as she stared straight ahead at the continuing sunrise, the star's bottom curve could almost completely visible above the horizon line of the megacity. If he had told him once, she'd told him a thousand times, he couldn't sneak up on her; still it never failed to make her smile when he tried. His arms reached out to wrap around her from behind, and she leaned back into him, feeling his chin rest on her left shoulder. She feigned a startled jump, and he laughed.

"I know better than that by now," he said, his voice in the gravelly tones of having just woken up.

She shrugged. "Just trying to start your day off on a high note."

He chuckled again, squeezing her for a moment before looking out at the sunrise. After a moment, he drew a long breath. "It's been a long time since I've been to Earth. Seeing this almost makes me regret it."

"Almost?" she whispered.

"Yea...I mean Earth never really felt like home for me; it was just where I came for training."

"I suppose..." she trailed off, watching the sun rise up fully over the horizon. "Still, it's beautiful to see."

"Yea it is," he answered quietly. "Soon you'll have your own sunrise to wake up to."

Her hands reached down to touch his where they were clasped around her waist. "_Keelah,_" she whispered, "if anyone could do it, it would have to be you, _saera_."

She felt the soft press of his kiss at the back of her neck, and closed her eyes with a smile. "I'll pencil it into my busy schedule," he whispered, and she laughed quietly. He let go of her then, crossing the living area to start making his coffee. She turned to watch him with a smile. As much as she dreaded what the Alliance would decide to do with him, the past five weeks had been, in her opinion, a well-needed and very well-deserved break for both of them. She could see the lessened tension in his movements, feel the relaxation sinking in every time he came nearer to her. Every biological signal her people had adapted to pick up on was telling her he was in a much better place at the moment, and she had quickly begun to be more appreciative of every passing day they had here.

She crossed to the kitchen table, but no sooner had she taken a seat than the chime for the door sounded. John dusted the coffee grounds off of his hands and stepped around the kitchen island, crossing to open the door. Lieutenant James Vega stood on the other side of that threshold, a datapad in one hand and a small white box in the other.

"Morning, amigos," he called out when John opened the door.

"James," John greeted him, "come on in. Between the datapad and the mystery box, I'm not sure which to be afraid of more."

Vega laughed, a deep appreciative noise, and crossed over towards the kitchen table. Halfway there, he turned to toss John the datapad. "Datapad's for you; you wouldn't want what's in the box." As he reached the table, he set the box down on top of it, then slid it over to Tali. "You might though, ma'am," he said with a wink, then turned back to speak with John. She opened the box to find a plethora of nutrient tubes, in any variety she could think of. She reached in to touch them, and the sensors in her gloves told her they were still cold. With a smile, she turned and put them into the refrigerator before crossing over to sit next to John on the couch.

"Thanks, James," she said as John read over the datapad. "You're a life-saver."

"Hey no problem," he said, waving away the imagined effort. "I had a few gambling debts to call in with some supply vessel captains anyway, it was about time they paid up."

"This doesn't make any sense," John whispered, looking up from the datapad to meet Vega's gaze. "The Reaper IFF was the only one of its kind; hell, we had to rip it out of the corpse of a damned Reaper to get the thing at all."

"And retrofit the Normandy's propulsion and relay interface systems on the fly to handle the new hardware interface," Tali added, reaching for the datapad that John had lowered to his lap. He picked it back up and handed it to her; if it was supposed to have been for his eyes only, Vega didn't seem to mind. "It's one-of-a-kind," John continued.

Vega shook his head apologetically. "Looks like Cerberus pulled one over on you, Commander. Telemetry data says the Omega Four relay has been used no fewer than five times since your mission to the Collector base; and those are round trip counts."

John scowled. "I should have expected it; I suppose in some small sense I did." He let a moment go by as Tali looked over the data. James spoke the truth; the numbers didn't lie. John spoke up again. "Alright, we know Cerberus is the enemy, why haven't we parked a ship out there to wait for them?"

James nodded. "That's what we suggested, tried to get it pushed through. Wait the bastards out, camp the relay. Command said it was too risky. The relay is in Terminus space; if we send a warship out there to sit on it, we're just asking for trouble with the races in the Terminus, including but by no means limited to..."

"Batarians," John finished for him.

"Bingo," Vega replied. "And the situation's already tense enough with them, what with all these bullshit charges flying around."

"So they're just going to let Cerberus keep...doing whatever it is they're doing out there?" Tali asked.

"Yea," Vega replied with open disgust, "we're officially ordered to continue telemetry and nothing more."

"Right," said John. "So what are we _actually_ going to do?"

James' omni-tool made a small chime, and he opened it to check the message burst he'd received. After a moment, he closed the device, looking back to John and Tali. "I'm sure there's something going on behind the scenes, but it doesn't look like its my job to tell you about it." He stood up, crossing to the door. "I'll let the next guy handle that." He winked and opened the door, snapping a salute immediately. "Sir," he said to someone outside the door.

"At ease, Lieutenant," came a familiar voice, and Vega dropped form and nodded, stepping out of the door with one last nod for the two of them. Councilor David Anderson stepped into their rooms, looking around the place for a long moment before closing the door behind him and smiling at them. "Nice place, Shepard. You stay here much longer you might start to get soft."

John smiled, getting to his feet and walking over to shake the man's hand. "Anderson, can't say I expected to see you here."

The man nodded. "Can't say I expected to be here, but the situation's grim." The two of them crossed back to the living area, and once they were seated comfortably, Anderson continued. "Someone's trying to frame me for collusion with Cerberus; and whoever it is has deep pockets, because it's going off well."

"And the Council?" John asked.

Anderson looked away resentfully. "They're following protocol and performing an investigation, but they've never liked having me in their little club, I won't be surprised if it's not the most thorough investigation they've ever done." He sighed heavily, looking out the window. "I left Udina in my place, so at least the work will get done, but...events...forced me to get off the Citadel for awhile. Naturally once the word got out, they called me here to answer some questions." He met each of their gazes levelly. "Hackett's standing up for me, but we don't have a lot of friends around here right now, Shepard. And that is very unfortunate for us."

"How so?" Tali asked quietly.

Anderson let out another deep breath, shaking his head slowly. "Because the Commander's hearing is in two hours' time."

* * *

"Because the containment protocols don't read 'CLASSIFIED' simply to _look_ important!" Liara fired back, the frustration in her voice belying her rapidly-deteriorating emotional control.

Dr. Green smirked at the outburst, the woman seemed to take genuine pleasure in eliciting frustration from her. After a moment to enjoy Liara's irritation, she spoke in a calm, measured voice. "Again, I apologize Dr. T'Soni, I only read what's given to my office inbox; I'll be happy to submit to any security review you'd like me to undergo, but please understand the uncomfortable situation I'm in, as well."

Liara could slap the smug look off this woman's face. Instead, she simply shook her head and waved her hand. "Just get out. I'll deal with this through more formal channels. It isn't my job to baby-sit you, Dr. Green." The other woman didn't miss a beat, nodding politely and stepping away through the door, the sharp _click_ of her heels receding down the hallway beyond. Liara let out a long breath. She had long suspected Green of being up to something, and had said so to the others, but she'd come vetted from reliable sources, and Liara had simply been told to keep an eye out for anything strange. Well, if looking into classified files weren't enough to tip the scales, whatever the reason, then nothing would be, she thought. She tucked the incident report away into her desk drawer; her superior wouldn't be back on Mars for another few days, likely the reason Green had tried anything in the first place. Her omni-tool chimed, and she smiled, opening it up to see a projection of her VI, Glyph. "Hello, Glyph."

"Dr. T'Soni," the VI greeted her, "you have an incoming transmission from an unidentified contact."

"Go ahead and patch it through," she replied, and the connection was established.

"_Liara,_" came Feron's raspy Drell voice through the device's audio emitter. "_How are things at the Archives?_"

She rolled her eyes. "Frustrating," she called back. "I would love it if, for just one day, I could actually do some _research_ at the Archives. Seems I'm becoming more administrative every day."

He laughed in response. "_Amusing to hear that coming from a person in your position_."

Liara chuckled despite herself. Since taking over the reins of the Shadow Broker's intelligence network a little over a month ago, she'd quickly expanded the Broker's influence and linked her own information network into the new one. In a week, she'd made the position of Shadow Broker more powerful and knowledgeable than it had ever been before. Feron had stayed on board the flagship, and together they'd found the perfect place to hide it away: a small sector of space around Vidian IV. The system was regularly avoided by space traffic due to high magnetic fields throughout the system, but with the proper calculations they'd set up shop perfectly, hidden away from any wary travelers that might venture into the system, and still close enough to the nearest comm beacon for her to conduct her whole range of operations. Feron had taken those over in her absence, but he still called regularly to inform her of major updates...and even when there weren't any major updates; for which she was thoroughly grateful.

"Yes," she replied. "Here's hoping I'm back home before too long. Any news on your end?"

"_Nothing mission-critical,_" the Drell replied. "_Our sources within the Migrant Fleet have all gone dark, though. Could be trouble there, or they could just be jumping to a new system; it usually gets quiet for a few days after a relocation of the Fleet._"

She nodded. "Alright, just keep an eye out for any reports, I still want them in on-time."

"_Understood."_

She smiled softly. "And thanks for watching over all of this for me, Feron. I promise I'll be back soon."

_"Not a problem; it's not as if there's anyone else who could do it._" She heard his laugh through the device, and her smile deepened.

"I've got to get back," she said, gathering up the datapads that lay strewn across her table. "Let me know if something big comes up."

_"Of course," _he replied, and the line cut out.

She stood to leave her office, when from far away in the other end of the complex, an explosive blast sounded out. A second later, the foundations of the structure shook violently, and Liara was thrown to the floor from the aftershock. Swearing, she stood up, brushing herself off as a voice cried out over the public announcement system.

"_Cerberus! Cerberus are in th-"_ the sound cut out, and Liara froze in terror. Gunfire could be heard far off down the hallway, and she ducked back behind her desk, reaching into the hidden compartment and retrieving her heavy pistol. Checking the rounds, she cocked the weapon, grabbed an empty archive disk, and rushed off in the direction of the Central Prothean Archives.

After hearing about what the Reapers had done to the Protheans from Shepard, she knew that if Cerberus dared attack a research installation this close to Earth, there was only one thing they were after.


End file.
